Astrid spends her days trying to be bigger. She reaches her arms to the sky and says “See how big I am today, Mama!” and I always agree that yes she must have been growing the whole time she was sleeping last night. It’s also a good way to get her to go to bed very, very early – ‘if you sleep now you will grow to be SOOO big.’ (This also works for long naps…take notes)
Her growth is marked by items she can now reach that she could not just weeks ago, being able to see over a retaining wall on our daily walk, and no longer receiving the typical head bonk as she speeds past the dining room table.
So as we celebrate Astrid’s ‘bigness’ it always catches me by surprise when she crawls onto my lap and softly says “I’m your baby today, Mommy” and “I’m really just so tiny – see I still fit in your lap perfect.”
And I kiss and hug her up until she slides down and away to show me something again that ‘she’s big at.’
Because when you’re 2 – being big is a very big deal.
Until you’re 9 and then you get to hear “you’re big enough to know better” and “you can reach that so help your sister” and “you have to set a good example for the younger kids.”
And then you sometimes have to remind your mother that truly – “you are only 9″ and I have to apologize because while 9 is big. It’s not that big. Except for when you want it to be really big…because at 9 you can still just be big when it’s convenient.
Which brings me to my question – when I do something clearly stupid and I try to say “but I’m only 43″ why don’t my kids cut me any slack. So when you’re 43 you always have to be big? Sometimes that sucks. I wonder if my 89 year old grandma will let me be little just for one day.